


back and forth

by fakebodies



Category: Saw (Movies)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Texting, this is all abt injokes w a friend lmao, very cute very sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-13
Updated: 2020-10-13
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:34:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26463493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fakebodies/pseuds/fakebodies
Summary: Because what everyone needed was a sappy fic about the bathroom boys reconnecting via text. italics are messages, bold are from Lawrence
Relationships: Adam Faulkner-Stanheight/Lawrence Gordon
Comments: 2
Kudos: 26





	back and forth

It starts out as a therapeutic exercise. Get in touch with the person you went through hell with— clear out some emotions, but start small. After brief confirmations that yes, they are both texting the right person, they just chat for a while. It felt too raw to bring up the bathroom this early in their... well, not a relationship. Not a friendship. Their whatever-the-fuck-this-is, as Adam would later grumble to his therapist. It felt so wrong to talk about work and the weather and fucking TV with the man who shot him in the shoulder after cutting his own foot off, but what the hell else were they gonna say? For a while, that’s all it is. Boring back and forth conversations about whatever bullshit they could bring up to avoid the gaping wound in their relationship.

Adam would snap at anyone after a bad day, but as it turns out Lawrence was basically his only human contact. So he snaps, they get into an argument— it’s stupid. If you asked him later, he wouldn’t be able to tell you what it had even really been about.

> _I just fucking hate that shit, ok?_

He watches the little bubble appear in the bottom corner as Lawrence typed out his message.

> **_You hate everything._ **
> 
> _I like sleep_

He bites his lip, typing out a second message before Lawrence can reply. The message he sends is as close to an apology as Lawrence will get.

> _...and I like you_

Adam’s pretty sure that’s the first time he’d admitted anything remotely emotional to Lawrence since they’d reconnected, too stubborn to let himself be vulnerable. He just gets a little smiley in response, but it makes his cheeks flush a little, grateful for the forgiveness. He goes to bed feeling good that night, and doesn’t wake up until his alarm goes off.

> _dude._

Adam hasn’t heard from Lawrence the whole day, which is strange. He usually got at least a ‘good morning’ from the doctor. The response that comes almost makes him spit out his beer.

> **_I’m busy now, Adam._ **
> 
> **_I just ate glass by accident._ **

Adam’s thumbs trip over themselves as he rushes to respond, eyes wide.

> _you fucking WHAT???_
> 
> **_Please leave me alone._ **
> 
> **_I ate glass._ **

Three hours later, Adam gets a “yes, I promise I’m okay, my mouth is fine” text confirming Lawrence hasn’t actually died from glass consumption. It takes all of Adam’s self control to avoid responding with “good because you’ve got a pretty mouth.” Instead, he sends a simple “cool” and gets another smiley face. He isn’t sure if he can picture anything cuter than Lawrence typing out a colon-parentheses smiley.

A year passes of texting back and forth with no face-to-face contact, and Adam decides he wants to fix that. Despite all the bad memories associated with how they met, Adam misses Lawrence. On New Year’s Eve, when he’s buzzed enough to not chicken out, Adam sends Lawrence a text. He’s got to get the conversation going somehow, right?

> _HAPPY NEW EAR!_
> 
> **_You got a new ear?_ **

The response is instantaneous. Adam can practically see Lawrence’s smug face behind the little grey text.

> _the one time I decide to be nice to u >:(_

They agree to meet for coffee that coming Wednesday, both laughing as they look at little glowing cellphone screens. It passes without much fanfare, but neither man can stop smiling after seeing the other face to face. What could’ve easily been awkward was just... comfortable. They made space for each other that few other people made, both fully aware of the extent of the others’ injuries. If Adam was a romantic, he’d say it felt like coming home.

Things only get more familiar from there. Late night texts, shared coffee breaks and the occasional beer after Lawrence’s shift ends. To his surprise, on Saturday Lawrence asks him what he’s having for dinner. Adam responds with a picture of his reheated leftovers. Lawrence’s picture is quick to follow: some intricate fucking pasta bullshit with herbs floating in the water.

> **_Pumpkin pasta!_ **
> 
> **_With a wooden spoon, no less!_ **
> 
> **_You wish._ **
> 
> **_You fucking wish you were me._ **

Adam laughs— he loves when Lawrence curses. It always seemed to catch him off-guard, making everything ten times funnier in combination with Lawrence’s total rich dad vibe. He doesn’t tell Lawrence how close to the truth he is, just sending a quick “lol” and trying not to think about how much he wishes he could be in Lawrence’s kitchen right now, hanging out while he cooks.

Lawrence doesn’t see the inside of Adam’s apartment for another four months. He isn’t paying much attention when he gets there, making a house call when Adam misses their lunch and won’t answer any phone calls. The closet door has been removed from its hinges, but Lawrence makes a beeline for the bathroom. He finds Adam shaking in an empty tub, eyes squeezed shut. It isn’t until Lawrence wraps a towel around his shoulders that they finally open. He manages to get a shaky explanation out of the smaller man, holding him on the bathroom floor. He’d tried to take a bath, but even hot water had been too much. When he’d pulled the plug and started to get out, the sound triggered him— he closed his eyes, and just... couldn’t bring himself to open them again. Lawrence understands. He sometimes couldn’t answer phone calls. He won’t park in parking garages anymore. He gets it.

Adam comes home with him that night. They make pumpkin pasta, and Adam steals one of Lawrence’s old t-shirts from his college days. Lawrence has to admit it suits the smaller man, and when they sit down to eat Adam fits snugly against his side in a way Alison never did. Neither one of them wants to get up when dinner is over— they fall asleep on the couch, Adam’s head on Lawrence’s chest.

Two months later, Adam sends Lawrence a text from their now-shared kitchen, sipping a mug of fancy, "rich doctor" coffee he never could’ve afforded before.

> _I almost died making poptarts_
> 
> **_Just another reason I love you._ **
> 
> _my forehead is bleeding_

At work, Lawrence laughs, and wonders how the hell he got so lucky.


End file.
